


Darling (this thing that breaks my heart)

by knottist



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blasphemy, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holding Hands, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Physical Abuse, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Satan is a dick, Verbal Abuse, extraordinary amounts of alcohol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-01-04 04:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21191912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knottist/pseuds/knottist
Summary: “Crowley, something else happened down there that I need to tell you about.”“Oh?”“Well, I’m terribly sorry about this, but I think I broke up with your boyfriend for you.”“What?” Crowley almost choked. “My boy…, what?”





	1. The Break Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Branded](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499851) by [Bookwormgal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookwormgal/pseuds/Bookwormgal). 

> updates roughly every weekend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated mature for language, verbal abuse, and sexual language. (no actual sex (in this chapter at least)). Probably could be rated teen, this is for safety. I don't know what kids these days know about.
> 
> Content Warning: Verbal Abuse

_Can you get me there, friend,_  
_Without a soul to sell along the way?_  
_The devil rides with me again_  
_He always says everything’s okay_

_Can you get me there, friend?_  
_You know the devil only holds the lease_  
_And he’s so hard to kick, man_  
_It’s been twenty years since I’ve been clean_

_Maybe I’m losing sleep over nothing_  
_He tells me I’ll be just fine_  
_He’s in my blood, he’s thicker than love_  
_He seems so important, and you keep fading_

_And though we are falling stars, we feel just fine_  
_And though it seems we're not far, we need more time_

"Me and Jesus Don’t Talk Anymore" by Beulah

\------

He was shoved into a room and the door slammed behind him. He stumbled a bit, (would have even without Crowley’s unnecessarily long legs to trip over), caught his balance and looked up. A shirtless demon stood facing him with arms crossed, staring at him. He was achingly beautiful to look at, tall and muscular as if Michaelangelo had sculpted him, with dark hair and piercing red eyes. The demon studied him for a long moment, then cocked his head to one side.

“Well darling, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Aziraphale swallowed and said nothing. He didn’t know who this demon was. Crowley had coached him on at least a dozen demons that he might encounter down here, but hadn’t mentioned this one. 

The demon smiled menacingly, his voice low and dangerous. As he spoke he slowly moved closer, his red eyes fixed unblinkingly on Aziraphale’s, and Aziraphale had to stop himself from taking a step back. Crowley wouldn’t be intimidated; he wouldn’t back down. 

“Really? You have nothing to say to me? You’re not going to beg my forgiveness? You’re not going to beg me to save you?” The demon was quite close now. “You’re not even going to beg me to fuck you one last time?” With these words the demon suddenly grabbed Aziraphale’s crotch and Aziraphale gasped. 

Oh, he thought, and his stomach twisted with jealousy. He put one hand to the demon’s chest and shoved him away.

The demon laughed cruelly. “Oh are you putting on a show for me? Little Crawly, swaggering about as if he owned the place. Well, you may have everyone else fooled, but I know what you are.” The demon put up a hand and traced Aziraphale’s jawline with his thumb. His next words were a lover’s whisper. “You’re weak. You’re pathetic. You’d be nothing if it weren’t for me. You’re just a skinny little shit.”

Aziraphale’s chest filled with righteous fury on Crowley’s behalf. No one could talk to his friend that way. He glared at the demon and nearly gave himself away and glowed with divine light.

“Shut up!”

\------

“Crowley, something else happened down there that I need to tell you about.” 

“Oh?”

“Well, I’m terribly sorry about this, but I think I broke up with your boyfriend for you.”

“What?” Crowley almost choked. “My boy…, what?”

“Yes, tall muscular chap with red eyes. You really should have told me about him, dear,” Aziraphale said a tad reproachfully. “It could’ve given me away if I hadn’t been quick on my feet and figured out who he was.”

Crowley stared at him open-mouthed for a second. Fuck. “Right, him, my…right. Sorry. You...you broke up with him?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word boyfriend. He had never thought of Lucifer as a boyfriend. 

“Yes, I’m sorry dear, but he was saying such horrible things to you. I got quite angry and had to tell him off.”

“You told him off?” Crowley sputtered in disbelief. He could feel his eyes going wider and wider at the thought of his angel, Aziraphale, scolding Satan the Prince of Darkness. “What exactly did you say?”

“Well, you know, I asked him who the dickens he thought he was talking to you that way, oh but of course I used more colorful language as I was pretending to be you, my dear. Then I told him he could go off and do something rather unpleasant.”

Crowley felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. “What? What words did you use precisely?”

“Oh, you know, I told him to go and hmm himself.”

“You told him to go fuck himself?!” Crowley began to laugh. 

Aziraphale smiled. “Yes, he was rather shocked.” Crowley could only imagine. What he would have given to have seen it himself. He laughed harder and harder until tears came to his eyes, and then somehow, quite without his permission, he found that he was sobbing. 

“Oh dear. Oh no.” Aziraphale quickly crossed the room, sat next to him on the couch and awkwardly patted him on the back. Crowley turned into him and buried his face in his shirtfront and continued to sob. Aziraphale relaxed and wrapped one arm around him and brought the other hand to his hair. “I’m so sorry, my dear. Did I do the wrong thing?”

Crowley shook his head and pressed it harder into Aziraphale’s chest. He clung to his coat and tried to stop himself from crying. “No,” he managed to choke out, “No, you did great, angel.” Aziraphale ran soothing fingers through his hair. 

After a while Crowley quieted a little and was able to breathe again. Aziraphale continued to hold him and stroke his hair. “Do you want to talk about it? You must have loved him very much.”

Crowley took a deep shuddering breath. “I…I lo--...Yes. A long time ago. And I thought…I thought that he… you know…but. Then we Fell. And it...it twisted.”

Oh, Aziraphale thought with a new pang of jealousy. This demon had known Crowley before the Fall, they had been lovers when he was an angel in Heaven. 

“And you know, demons can’t lo--...they can’t. And he...became cruel. But I couldn’t...I couldn’t stop. I tried and I couldn’t. I was weak.” Crowley’s face twisted with bitterness. “I still am. I’m everything he says I am and more. I’m--”

“Stop,” Aziraphale said taking Crowley’s tearstained face in his hands and tilting it up to look at him. “You’re not weak, or any of the things he said. I’ve known you six thousand years and I’ve never known you to be anything but brave and strong and clever and beautiful.” He looked into Crowley’s eyes with all of his love and affection, willing him to believe him. 

Crowley looked away. “You didn’t know me when I was with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "Branded" by Bookwormgal. I read it, liked it, and thought what if instead of a one-time non-con, Satan and Crowley had a consensual relationship? So the premise is that Crowley fell in love with Lucifer in Heaven before their fall, and after the fall, Lucifer is an abusive boyfriend. Crowley starts out in love, but the more time he spends on Earth and with Aziraphale, the more he realizes Lucifer is wrong about him, he starts to like and respect himself, and of course he falls in love with Aziraphale. He gets to a point where when he's on Earth he hates Satan and never wants to go back to him, and I even had a fun idea where he invents paperwork as a way to avoid having to go to Hell in person so often, but when he's in Hell and Lucifer summons him he falls back into his old ways and can't help himself. During the body swap, Aziraphale breaks up with Lucifer, something that Crowley never had the strength to do. Then subsequent chapters would be going back to the past to give more background, and looking forward to the future: how does Lucifer react when Crowley's execution fails? Will he let Crowley go so easily? And obviously there would be Crowley and his Angel getting together, because what's the point of a Good Omens fanfic where that doesn't happen?
> 
> The title comes from the fact that Satan calls Crowley "darling". This is Satan's preferred pet name for Crowley, and then Aziraphale, not knowing this, calls him darling at some point, and Crowley's all like "don't call me that!" And then the "this thing that breaks my heart" is because my brain immediately went to the tegan & sara song. because gay.
> 
> Comments on the chapter: 1. Could probably think of more and better mean things for Lucifer to say. 2. Could probably get in Aziraphale's head more and look at his jealousy and insecurity about "Crowley's boyfriend"
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Lightbringer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no Aziraphale in this chapter.
> 
> Content Warnings: Verbal Abuse, Light Physical Abuse (no graphic violence), Blasphemy

“You, there!” 

The red-haired angel stopped mid-flight, startled. “Me?”

“Yes! I’ve seen you around. You’re helping to build the stars.” The speaker was standing with a small group of angels clustered around them. Curious, the red-haired angel landed next to the group. 

“Right, that’s me.” 

“You are creating stars. Are you not then also a Creator?” The speaker smiled triumphantly, absolutely certain of their rightness and glowing with passion. There was a gasp from the audience at this blasphemy. The red-haired angel raised an eyebrow. They were proud of their work, and it was nice to be appreciated, but they’d never expected to be equated with God. 

“We are all working together to build the universe. Therefore we are all Creators! What makes God any better than the rest of us? Why should They be raised up above us and demand us to obey Them without question?”

“Well,” said an angel with violet eyes, “even if we accept your premise that all angels are Creators, it’s still true that God created angels. Therefore They have the right to dominion over us, Their creations.”

“Aha!” The speaker pointed excitedly, as if they’d been expecting this objection. “God created angels. Everyone knows this. And how do we know it?” They paused dramatically. “God told us so! God said They created angels. But is there any other proof? Do you remember the moment of your creation? Have you ever seen God create another angel?” The speaker waited as the angels shook their heads doubtfully. “Exactly! We have nothing but Their word!”

The violet-eyed angel pressed again. “If you’re claiming that God didn’t create us, then who did? Are you saying that we just spontaneously winked into existence?”

The speaker pressed their palms together and smiled. “That’s a good question. We could ask the same thing about God, couldn’t we?” There was a silence as the listeners considered these words. “If we accept that no one created God, and God has either always been or spontaneously winked into existence, then it is just as plausible that the same is true for all angels. And if so, then God is a liar! They are just another angel, and not a higher being at all.”

“I can’t listen to any more of this. This is blasphemy, Lucifer!” The violet-eyed angel abruptly took flight, pausing briefly to throw over their shoulder, “The rest of you had best leave too, if you know what’s good for you!” The speaker, Lucifer, watched them go with amusement. The rest of the group shifted uncomfortably, avoided eye contact, and remembered they had other places to be. The red-haired angel lingered.

“So, God’s just another angel, huh?” 

Lucifer shrugged. “It’s just a theory. I can’t prove it. But it doesn’t really matter. Because I absolutely believe that we are all on equal footing with God, whether They created us or not.”

“Why?”

Lucifer threw them a winning smile and moved closer. “Why not? You’re asking the wrong questions. The question is, why do we all inherently believe that God alone should be the one to make all the decisions while we simply carry out Their wishes?” Lucifer took their hand. A friendly gesture, but it strangely made something flutter with nervous excitement within the red-haired angel. “You are an intelligent being. You poured your heart into creating those stars you made. You love them. Shouldn’t you have a say in what happens to them?”

The red-haired angel looked into Lucifer’s eyes, bright as the morning star with an intense red color that put many of the nebulae they’d created to shame. They were already lost. They knew they would follow this beautiful bright angel anywhere. 

\------

“It’s just odd isn’t it? I mean, I’m out here in this great big expanse, practically by myself, and then there’s all these angels clustered around this one little planet. You’d think we’d be more evenly spread out.”

“Do you get lonely out there, darling?” Lucifer teased.

“Well, maybe, but that’s not the point. The point is, what’s so important about Earth? Like I’m assigned to half the stars in the universe, and it feels like each speck of dust on Earth is personally handcrafted by a different angel.”

“You’re exaggerating. But yes, I see what you mean.” Lucifer hummed thoughtfully as they combed through the red-haired angel’s wings. “God’s clearly planning something big for this planet. It’d be nice to know what we’re all working so hard for.”

\------

Lucifer touched every part of them, and they were in ecstasy. They loved Lucifer more than they loved God Themselves and they knew it was blasphemy, but couldn’t bring themselves to care.

\------

The red-haired angel was one of Lucifer’s first followers, but soon there were many. They had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand they were happy for Lucifer’s success, but on the other hand...well they were a bit jealous. They preferred being the sole object of Lucifer’s attention. And they didn’t really take to the other followers. They had always felt like a bit of an outsider in Heaven, lingering on the outskirts of things. It was probably a symptom of spending so much time alone among the stars. 

They believed whole-heartedly in the cause. Lucifer wanted to give every angel a voice. They wanted God to talk to them, and stop being so frustratingly mysterious, and consider their ideas. And yet God remained silent, even as Lucifer’s movement grew. And it grew in directions that made the red-haired angel a little uncomfortable. 

“If God won’t listen to us, we’ll just have to make Them listen,” commented a short, black-haired angel, filling the red-haired angel with dread. Violence hadn’t been invented yet, but they had a strange foreboding. Still, they trusted Lucifer. Lucifer was rational. All they wanted was a chance to be heard. They would keep things under control. 

\------

Lucifer and the short, black-haired angel were sat close together in deep conversation. They looked up and stopped talking abruptly as the red-haired angel approached. 

“Darling!” Lucifer called out warmly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were working in the Andromeda galaxy.”

“What, I can’t take a break and visit my lover?” They smiled at Lucifer, then shot a questioning glance at the other angel. 

“Sure, we’re just... in the middle of something right now.”

“Oh? What’s going on?” 

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty head over, darling. Why don’t you run off and work on those beautiful stars of yours, and we’ll talk later.” As they spoke they cupped the red-haired angel’s face in their hands and punctuated their suggestion with a gentle kiss on their forehead.

The red-haired angel frowned, uneasy, but did as they were asked.

\------

They’d never felt pain before. It was agonizing. “Lucifer…” Where was Lucifer? Were they alright? They’d been fighting with Michael (even for the final battle, God still didn’t show up), but in all the confusion the red-haired angel hadn’t seen how it had ended. They twisted and screamed in pain and cried out for Lucifer again. They struggled to open their eyes. 

There they were. Standing upright, pulsing angry light, still defiant, still beautiful. They looked utterly unaffected by the Fall. “Lucifer....” the red-haired being whined as they crawled towards them. 

Lucifer turned and looked at them, their red eyes full of revulsion. The red-haired being squirmed under their gaze, but continued to creep closer, until Lucifer stomped on their outstretched hand. “You vile crawling thing. Get away from me. Why would I ever want you?”

\------

Lucifer kissed their fingers. It didn’t hurt anymore. It didn’t matter, really, their hand was more a concept than a reality so it wasn’t like there was any lasting damage. They hadn’t apologized. Not for the hurt hand, not for their cruel words, not for ignoring them while they sauntered around handing out titles to their most loyal followers (which apparently didn’t include the red-haired demon) and putting the new demons to work creating a physical space out of the empty void they’d fallen into. (Time hadn’t officially begun yet, so it’s unclear how long it was before Lucifer came to them, but it certainly felt like too long). But that didn’t matter either. What mattered is that they were paying attention to them now. 

“Crawly?”

“You don’t like it?” Lucifer looked up at them in genuine surprise, continuing to caress them gently. 

“It’s a little...squirming at your feet-ish.”

“Right, darling. Every time I say your name, or hear it, I’ll remember you crawling up to my feet, and it will remind me of your utter devotion to me.”

The red-haired demon was still unconvinced. But they _were_ devoted to Lucifer and they wanted to please them. “Okay. My name is Crawly, then.”

Lucifer beamed and kissed them. Crawly sighed contentedly in their arms. “I’m so happy right now. I know you had just Fallen and you were just hurt and angry, and I know I was just being silly, but I was worried that you didn’t love me anymore.”

Lucifer looked amused. “I _don’t_ love you anymore. Fallen angels can’t love. God took that from us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gender-neutral pronouns for everyone! I transition to gender-specific pronouns when they get bodies. And I'm always going to use gender-neutral pronouns for God. They use male pronouns in the book, and female in the show, but whatever, I think it's weird for God to have a gender. 
> 
> When I first started reading/writing same-sex couples a few years ago, I noticed that it can get a little confusing as to who is being referred to. And it's even more confusing when everyone has gender-neutral pronouns! Does "their" refer to Crowley, to Lucifer, or to Lucifer's eyes? Unclear. And this is complicated further by not knowing Crowley's name as an angel. So hopefully it's not too confusing.
> 
> Lucifer's theory that God is just an old and powerful angel is pulled from Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass trilogy. 
> 
> It's a good thing that I sat on this chapter. After a couple days I reread it and realized that Crowley had zero personality in it besides smitten. Hopefully the edit helped.
> 
> Also, I'm currently drinking a Cabernet Franc called "Light and Space" so that's fitting. Aight, I'ma stop babbling. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! And thank you so much to the people who commented on the first chapter with their support and encouragement! It meant so much to me!


	3. Platonic Hand Holding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an extension of the scenes from Chapter 1: The Break Up. We get more into Crowley and Aziraphale's heads here. Basically I just vomited up a bunch of angst and pining.
> 
> I'm American and I can't British and I'm so sorry.

Crowley was alive. He was alive, and they were both alive, and the world hadn’t ended, and they were going to live happily ever after. Aziraphale was giddy on champagne and success. 

They made their way back to Crowley’s flat. “Bentley first, then bookshop,” Crowley had insisted. 

“Oh look at you, you beautiful thing,” Crowley breathed when he saw the car. He ran to it, almost skipping, but Aziraphale was too happy to tease him about it. He watched as Crowley circled the car, touching it reverently and making happy exclamations. 

“Get in, angel!” Crowley called. On the short ride to the bookshop Aziraphale started to come down from his high. Crowley was driving at his usual breakneck speed, and worse he kept taking his eyes off the road to smile at the angel and chuckle at his wincing expression. Crowley reached over and took his hand, which was clenched in a nervous fist on his knee. Crowley’s fingers coaxed his to relax so he could interlace them together. He should’ve been happy, but as he looked at their joined hands he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He gripped Crowley’s hand tightly and closed his eyes. 

Last night on the bus to London, Aziraphale had summoned all his courage and taken the biggest step forward in their relationship he’d taken since he raised a wing above a certain demon on the wall of Eden. He’d sat next to Crowley and held his hand. Crowley had looked at him curiously but hadn’t commented, and hadn’t let go. They had sat together the whole bus ride without speaking, holding hands and smiling like idiots at their feet. 

Aziraphale had been so nervous when they got to Crowley’s flat. He half expected that Crowley would take his gesture as an invitation, and that as soon as they got inside Crowley would shove him into a wall the way he had at the former convent, only this time Crowley would kiss him senseless and have his way with him. But he didn’t. And part of him was disappointed, but a larger part of him was grateful. Everything was happening so fast. He had only just accepted that they were on their own side. He needed time to sort through his emotions. Not to mention that they needed to focus on surviving whatever Heaven and Hell were planning for them. 

He had been completely blindsided by what he discovered in Hell. He never would have taken Crowley’s hand last night if he’d known. What was he doing holding hands with him now? Aziraphale had vaguely known that Crowley sometimes had dalliances with humans. Aziraphale had had relationships with humans as well. But this was different. He had never suspected that Crowley had been in a relationship with another demon. “You’re not even going to beg me to fuck you one last time?” The red-eyed demon’s words echoed in his head and he shuddered. How long had this been going on? He’d always thought that… Well he’d thought that Crowley _liked_ him. In a more than friendly way. But he’d had a boyfriend this whole time? Was Aziraphale wrong? But Crowley had let him hold his hand last night. And he’d initiated hand-holding just now. Was this platonic hand-holding? And seriously, what did Crowley even see in that demon? From what Aziraphale had seen, he was kind of an arsehole. 

Crowley let go of his hand. “Look angel!” He looked. The bookshop looked the same as it always had. Crowley got out of the car and dashed around to open the door for Aziraphale and pull him into the bookshop. He gestured around. “See, what’d I tell you! Not so much as a scorch mark! Everything just where you left it. With a few minor additions.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t manage the level of excitement that Crowley seemed to expect of him. “Yes, dear boy, just so.”

Crowley frowned. “What’s wrong, angel? I thought you’d be dashing about everywhere taking inventory. I thought you’d at least want to check on your first edition Wildes.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It’s different for me. You saw the Bentley explode in front of you. Of course you were thrilled to find it unharmed. But I didn’t see the bookshop burn down. I hardly believed it when you told me.” He started to wander toward the back room. “Wine, dear?”

“Always.” 

They settled into their usual spots, Crowley still eyeing him curiously. They sipped in silence for a few minutes, and then Crowley set his glass down on the coffee table, took off his sunglasses and leaned forward.

“Okay. Nope. I’m not buying it. What’s going on?”

Aziraphale set down his own glass and sighed. 

“Come on. Out with it.”

Aziraphale looked into the golden eyes he loved so well, and tried to speak casually and lightly, as if it didn’t bother him. “Crowley, something else happened down there that I need to tell you about.” 

\------

When Crowley started laughing, Aziraphale had been relieved. Crowley was going to say that the demon meant nothing to him, that he had just been manipulating him for some reason. It was all just some big misunderstanding. But then Crowley started crying, and Aziraphale realized that yes, the demon meant a great deal to him indeed. And that hurt. But his friend was clearly in pain and Aziraphale shoved his own bruised ego aside to go comfort him. 

At first Aziraphale just sat next to him and awkwardly patted his back. He wanted nothing more than to gather him up in his arms and kiss his pain away, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch him. Then Crowley turned towards him, clutching his lapels and hiding his face in his chest, and Aziraphale put his arms around him and stroked his hair. He had never seen Crowley so upset. Well, maybe yesterday when he’d been discorporated. Crowley hadn’t been actively sobbing then, but he’d certainly looked and sounded like he had been. Was that really only yesterday? It had been an extremely emotional few days. They had a lot they needed to talk about, he realized. But one thing at a time.

\------

Crowley was all cried out and back in enough control of himself to be thoroughly embarrassed about it. He pulled away from Aziraphale’s embrace and stood. He needed alcohol. Extraordinary amounts of alcohol. He reached for the wine he’d set aside earlier and saw his sunglasses. Yeah he needed those too. He snatched them up and shoved them on his face, before downing his wine and pouring himself a second glass. He glanced at Aziraphale and looked away quickly. He couldn’t stand Aziraphale looking at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied. Shit. He’d never wanted Aziraphale to find out about this. He began to pace. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about him.” He tried to sound casual. “I thought he’d be through with me after what I’d done. Thought he’d just want to watch me melt. Should’ve known he’d want to _gloat_ about it, the bastard.”

“That’s quite alright, dear.” Aziraphale felt miserable. His shirtfront was still wet from Crowley’s tears. He thought of something else. “If you don’t mind me asking, who is he?”

Crowley winced. Fuck. He’d been hoping Aziraphale wouldn’t ask. “Does it matter?”

“I think it might.” He remembered the demon’s last words. “He threatened you. Hell agreed to leave you alone, but do you think he will? Do you think he’ll come after you?”

Crowley had been thinking the same thing. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s not really one for leaving Hell though.”

Aziraphale was surprised. When had they had time to have a relationship if this demon didn’t leave Hell? Crowley hated Hell. He never went there when he didn’t have to. He’d invented paperwork specifically to avoid going to Hell. But then again, he hadn’t been with Crowley every second of the last six millenia. Maybe he’d gone there more than he’d let on. How well did he really know Crowley anyway?

“Well then, I just want to know what we’re dealing with, in case he does. Who he is, how powerful he is. He must be somewhat important, if they brought me to him before the trial. He also seemed to think he had the power to save you.” 

Crowley finally looked at him at that. “Wait, what?”

“I didn’t take him too seriously. I thought he was just taunting you.”

“Aziraphale, I think you’d better tell me everything that happened.”

\------

“Shut up!” Aziraphale yelled. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You can’t fucking talk to me like that!”

The red-eyed demon stared, as shocked as if a rock had started yelling at him.

“First of all, my name is Crowley. _Crow_ley. With an ‘oh’ sound. It’s not hard. And I’m not weak and I’m not nothing. I tempted humanity into original sin. That’s right, I invented fucking _sin_. And I invented the Spanish Inquisition and started World War II.” Wait, what if the demon knew about Crowley’s exaggerations? They were in some kind of relationship, he might have confided in him. He’d better stick to things Crowley had actually done. Which wasn’t an impressive list. His dear friend’s particular brand of evil consisted mainly of asking questions and being annoying. 

“I designed the M25. I melted Ligur with holy water. Where the fuck did I get holy water from, huh? Think about that.”

Here the demon cut in. When relating this story to Crowley later, Aziraphale carefully leaves this part out. Aziraphale and the demon exchange heated words for a few minutes.

“So no, I’m not going to ‘beg you to fuck me one last time.’ Whatever we had, it’s fucking over. From now on, this--” he gestured to himself, “is fucking off limits to you and your tiny fucking prick!” In the back of his mind Aziraphale wondered if he was overdoing it with the fucks. 

“Go fuck yourself!”

The red-eyed demon opened and closed his mouth, furious and sputtering. After a few false starts, he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again his face had changed to an expression of cool disdain. Then he spoke calmly. “You made the wrong choice, darling. If you had just prostrated yourself before me and begged forgiveness, I would have given it to you. I would have saved you and allowed you spend the rest of your existence by my side, making it up to me. But now I wash my hands of you. You’re going to die screaming.”

\------

Crowley breathed unsteadily. He paced and downed more wine. Lucifer would have saved him? Aziraphale could be right though, he could have just been taunting him. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Why would Lucifer give up his plaything when he could keep him and torment him for eternity? And that’s exactly what would have happened, he realized, if they hadn’t done the body swap and it really had been him down there. He would have cried and squirmed and begged and Lucifer would have fucked him, and held him sweetly and comforted him, and promised to never let anything happen to him, and everything would have gone back to the way it was before. Christ he was pathetic. He felt burning behind his eyes and blinked it back. He’d done quite enough crying for one century, thank you. 

“So who is he?”

Crowley stared up at the ceiling and blinked a few more times. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to speak right now. _Angel, please. I can’t._ He wondered what Aziraphale would do if he just walked out right now. He wanted to just melt into the floorboards and slither under the sofa like the snake he was. He took a shaky breath.

“Crowley? Are you alright?” 

Crowley could hear the concern in his voice. He couldn’t look at him. If he saw his face, that would be it. After a couple deep breaths he lowered his gaze from the ceiling to glare at his empty wine glass. “Got anything stronger?” 

Aziraphale jumped up at the request. “Of course my dear, whatever you need.” He rushed off and Crowley had never been so relieved to see him go. He collapsed onto the sofa, elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Then his head sunk lower, his hands pushing through his hair. 

A tap on his shoulder. He reached out without looking up and Aziraphale pressed a tumbler into his hand. He downed the liquid in one go without looking at it or tasting it. It burned his throat. 

“Crow—” 

“I’m fucking exhausted, angel,” he spoke quickly. He could feel Aziraphale hovering over him, wringing his hands, worrying about the poor pathetic demon. 

“Oh. Right. Of course. Well, my dear, if you—” 

“Gonna head home then.” He set the tumbler down heavily, the sound punctuating his words. He stood and walked out, barely hearing whatever noises Aziraphale was making at him. 

Crowley got in the Bentley and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. The evening had not gone the way he’d expected. “Shit shit shit shit.” It occurred to him that Aziraphale might be watching out a window, so he sighed, sat up and turned the engine over. He drove back to Mayfair at 95 miles per hour, went up to his flat, and faceplanted into his bed. 

The angel had held his hand last night. He’d been here, in his flat, had looked in his eyes and told him that he was sorry for the things he’d said, that they were friends and they were on their side. At the Ritz today they had been so happy. Aziraphale had been looking at him with undisguised adoration in his eyes. They had held hands again in the car on the way to the bookshop. It had been going so well. The angel should have been overjoyed to see his books, he should’ve been running around touching them all and Crowley would have watched him with an overwhelming fondness. Then he would have told Aziraphale about how he’d found the bookshop on fire and thought he’d lost him, and he’d have touched his face and told him he could never bear to lose him, that he meant more to him than anything in the universe. And Aziraphale would have said he felt the same way, and maybe they would have kissed… 

Fuck! Fucking Lucifer. Of course he couldn’t just let him have this. And it might have still been okay if Crowley had just been able to play it cool. But of course he had to burst into tears like a fucking child. Shit shit shit. Aziraphale would never look at him the same way again, now that he knew the truth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where did the hand holding on the bus come from? I've seen this in multiple places, but have no idea where it came from. If there is a deleted scene of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands I'm going to be very angry. Don't get me wrong, I love the gay subtext, but why don't we get gay text? It's really not fair. 
> 
> I read the book several years ago, and I loved Aziraphale and Crowley's dynamic, but I don't remember it striking me as particularly gay (Granted, I was a baby gay at the time). Then I watched the miniseries a month or two or so ago and it it just smacked me upside the head with the gay. And I super love how Gaiman seemed to have leaned into it for the show. But still.
> 
> Question: How do you guys all talk to each other? Like I really need to ask someone, what is Aziraphale for "asshole"? But I had no one to ask, and no idea, so I left it as is. 
> 
> Tonight I'm drinking a cab sauvignon called Restless Earth. Which would be more appropriate for the next chapter, but oh well.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Lead Balloon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback, Aziraphale is in it this time
> 
> Content Warnings: Verbal Abuse, Light Physical Abuse (no graphic violence), also there is sex in this one, I wouldn't call it explicit, but it's there. let me know if you think I need to change the rating.

Lucifer had declared themselves Satan, and had set themselves above the other demons. Which was a little ironic, considering the reason that they had all fallen. But they claimed that they would be different from God. They would always be available to explain themselves, and would always be willing to listen to their demons’ ideas and concerns. 

Crawly had already started to neatly compartmentalize it in their mind: Satan was the ruler of Hell and Lucifer was their lover. No, they corrected themselves, that wasn’t right. Lucifer would laugh if they heard that. They weren’t lovers, because they weren’t in love, because they couldn’t love anymore. That would take some getting used to. Especially since they didn’t feel any different.

They still felt like they didn’t quite fit in. Maybe there was something wrong with them. At least before they had felt secure in the knowledge that Lucifer loved them. They had never kept it hidden before. Now Lucifer refused to show them any sort of affection in public, and denied them whenever asked about it. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m playing favorites, darling.” And that made sense, they guessed. Except it really didn’t. They weren’t one of the ones Lucifer had showered with titles and praise. 

But did it really matter? All the pain, all the doubt, all the mockery from their fellow demons, it all faded into nothing when they were able to bask in Lucifer’s full attention like this. When Lucifer came to them and touched them, and they couldn’t tell where they ended and where Lucifer began, and it almost felt like love. 

“Oh my darling, how I’m going to miss you,” Lucifer sighed as they pressed them close. 

“What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh but you are. It’s time.”

Crawly propped themselves up and looked into Lucifer’s red eyes. “Time? Already?”

“Yes. I have it on good authority that it’s beginning very soon.”

“Oh.” Crawly frowned. It was what they had been waiting for, as angels. It was a weird feeling. “Okay. But what does that have to do with us?”

“What do you mean, ‘what does that have to do with us?’ It has everything to do with us. It’s God’s Great Plan. It’s all starting.”

“Right, but Lucifer,” they spoke gently, “we’re not angels anymore.”

“Exactly. So we can’t just sit around and let God get on with their Great Plan unhindered.”

Crawly was surprised. Were they really still on this? “Lucifer, we lost. God didn’t even show up and we still lost. Michael beat you.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed. “Michael got in a lucky shot. I’ll be ready next time.”

“Next time? What are you planning?” Crawly was concerned. Would Lucifer even survive a next time?

“Nothing yet. Don’t worry about it. For now we’re just going to throw a wrench into God’s plans. You were right. Earth is important. God’s going to create another kind of sentient being to inhabit it. So we’re going to be there too, to sway them to our side.”

Crawly was horrified. There was no way this wasn’t going to end badly. “Lucifer, we don’t have to do this. If we provoke Heaven again we’re all going to end up dead. Come on, we tried to reason with God, and They wouldn’t listen. So forget Them. Listen, you said we’re all Creators, right? So let’s create our own universe. A better universe. On our terms.”

Lucifer hit them. Crawly held their metaphorical jaw and looked up at them with hurt and shock in their eyes. 

“This is why I don’t tell you anything. You’re weak and cowardly. No, we’re not going to run off and create our own universe. That would be admitting defeat. Now be quiet and listen to me. Don’t make me hit you again.”

Crawly nodded miserably.

“As I was saying, time will officially begin. God will create the universe in six days.”

Crawly snorted. They couldn’t help it. Then they realized what they’d done and trembled. Luckily, Lucifer didn’t seem to mind the interruption. 

“Right, it’s a metaphor. Obviously the angels have already done most of the work. All God’s really going to do is create the sentient beings. The important part is that on the seventh day, apparently God is going to rest. That’s the perfect opportunity for you to get up there and make some trouble.”

“Me?” Crawly cringed and clapped both hands over their mouth. 

Lucifer’s face softened, and they took both of Crawly’s hands and kissed them. “It’s okay, darling. You can talk. You can always ask questions. I’m sorry, I won’t hit you again. You just make me so angry sometimes.” Still holding Crawly’s hands, they kissed their exposed mouth. Crawly melted under the warmth of their attention.

“So,” Lucifer said, “What did you want to ask me?”

“Why me?”

“Because you can be pretty clever when you’re not being an idiot. This is going to require some finesse and I trust you more than any of the other idiots around here.”

Crawly beamed. Lucifer thought they were clever. Lucifer trusted them. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t.” 

* * *

It was the seventh day and Crawly was feeling petulant. All they had wanted was a goodbye kiss.

Lucifer was in a meeting with the princes of Hell and glared at them when they came in. Beelzebub looked over their shoulder and smirked. “What are they doing here? Satan, did you really mingle essences with this being?”

Lucifer made a face. “Lucifer may have loved them.” They gagged on the word “loved” and then continued. “But I would never sully my essence with such a pathetic excuse for a demon. They didn’t even fight in the war. From what I hear they just lingered on the edges and waited patiently to be cast out.” Lucifer laughed cruelly and the princes joined in. 

Crawly shook themselves. Compartmentalize. It wasn’t Lucifer who had said those things, it was Satan. They were going to go to Earth and do a good job, well a bad job, such a bad job that no demon would ever laugh at them again. They were going to be worthy of Lucifer’s trust. So worthy that even Satan would acknowledge them.

They were issued a body and headed to Earth. They emerged from the ground and blinked at the sudden light. The sun. A star, but not one of theirs. They had never seen it from this angle. It was hard to look at. And a star had never felt like this. It was…warm. Were all stars warm? Bodies were curious things. They could feel the sun heating their scales and it felt glorious. Scales? Oh right. They were a snake. Interesting. They slithered through the grass, and oh, the grass against their scales felt lovely too. They found a nice warm rock in the sunlight and curled up on it and just basked in the lovely warmth. This was so nice. They hadn’t expected Earth to be so nice. They knew there was something they were supposed to be doing, but it could wait. They were so comfortable.

They awoke feeling chilled. The sunlight was gone. They looked up and gasped. The sky was black and filled with stars. Their stars. They were so beautiful. Oh, they really liked it here. 

* * *

Crawly took some time to make their move. It wasn’t that they were busy enjoying all the new sensations, taking naps basking lazily in patches of sunshine, admiring all the beauty around them. No those definitely weren’t the reasons. They were...assessing the situation. 

As far as Crawly could tell, God had created the humans for the sole purpose of worshipping Them. Which struck Crawly as extremely narcissistic. 

There were also four angels hanging about, each with a flaming sword that reminded Crawly uncomfortably of the war. They each wore a humanoid corporation. Crawly wondered if they could change their corporation to be human-shaped too. Probably. They were a Creator after all. 

None of the angels paid the snake any attention. They didn’t seem to suspect that they were any different from any of the other creatures in the Garden. Crawly didn’t recognize any of them, but three of them were strait-laced carbon copies of any of a hundred angels Crawly had met in Heaven. No personality. But the fourth angel…

At first he had seemed no different from the others. Then once, when he was alone, Crawly saw him look around guiltily, set down his sword, and pluck a fruit from a tree. Crawly watched, fascinated, as the angel bit into the fruit and moaned softly, the look on his face expressing utter bliss. 

Now that Crawly thought about it, the situation might need further assessment.

* * *

Finally a human literally tripped over them, and Crawly supposed they really couldn’t put it off any longer. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” the human said politely.

“‘Ssss fine.” They felt a little grumpy to be awakened from their nap, but they shook it off. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gathering fruit for my husband and I.”

“Oh.” Crawly thought of the angel’s beatific face as he ate the fruit. “What does it taste like?”

“It’s delicious!” The human smiled. “You haven’t tried any?”

“No.”

“You really ought to! Well, except for the apples from the tree in the middle of the Garden. We aren’t allowed to eat those.”

Crawly would have raised an eyebrow if they had one. “What? Why not?”

“God says if we eat them, we will die.”

The metaphorical eyebrow lifted higher. “What? That doesn’t make any sense. This is paradise. Why would God put poisonous fruit in the middle of it?”

The human shrugged. “That’s what They said.”

And of course the human wasn’t questioning Their word. It was the angels pre-Fall all over again. Crawly sighed. “Come on, show me this big bad tree.”

The human led them to the apple tree. It really was beautiful. The apples were big and red and juicy and looked awfully tempting. Crawly flicked their tongue out, smelling. They realized exactly what this tree was. Come on, this was just too easy. It was almost as if God _wanted_ Crawly to do this. 

They turned to the human. “God lied to you. If you eat from this tree, you won’t die. You’ll become like God, knowing the difference between Good and Evil.”

The human frowned. It looked like it was the first time her face had ever had reason to assume such an expression. “Why would God lie to us?”

“Because God doesn’t want you to have knowledge or wisdom,” Crawly explained patiently. “They don’t want you to be able to think for yourselves. They just want you to hang out in the Garden forever and worship Them blindly. Come on, haven’t you ever wondered why you’re here? Haven’t you ever wondered if there’s more to life than doing what God says and what Adam says? And while we’re on the subject, why do you have to do what Adam says? Why isn’t he out here gathering his own fruit? Why did he get to name all the plants and animals? Why did he get to name you? What makes him so special?”

The human looked distressed. Crawly felt almost guilty for troubling her. But it was really for her own good. It was better than ignorance. “Come on, Eve, it’s just an apple. You won’t die, I promise.”

* * *

Well that did it. God had been angry and cast the humans out of the Garden. Which was just classic God really. Why bother talking to people when you could just throw a tantrum and kick them out? They supposed they should be getting back to Hell. And wasn’t it strange that they were reluctant to go back? This assignment had been nothing like they’d expected. They had thought they would be miserable every moment, missing Lucifer. 

They looked up and saw _him_, standing on the eastern wall. And they made a rash decision, unable to resist the temptation. Crawly slithered up the wall and shifted their corporation into a humanoid shape to match the angel’s. (Except they made themselves a little taller, just for good measure.) There, they knew they could do it. He ran his tongue around his mouth. New teeth. That’s weird.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”

* * *

He huddled as close as he dared to the angel’s side, underneath his outstretched wing. He kept sneaking curious glances at the angel. He was so strange. He’d been enjoying their conversation. He liked making the angel laugh. He liked it even more when the angel was so obviously flustered. And he was shocked and intrigued that the angel had made a decision for himself, even if he was beating himself up about it afterward. But the angel was silent now, just letting himself get wet while keeping Crawly dry. And really, that behavior was the strangest of all. Why was he being kind to a demon? He lost track of how long they stood there. When the storm finally broke the angel lowered his wing and Crawly glanced at him again and spoke.

“Well. Thanks for that. I’d best be getting on, I guess. You staying here?”

“For the time being. Guardian of the Eastern Gate and all that.”

“Right. Well, see you around.” He made to return to the Garden and the angel stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“No. Other way, demon. Guardian, remember?”

“Seriously, angel? What could I possibly get up to in an empty garden? I’m just trying to return to Hell.”

“And I’m sure you’ll find another way.” 

Crawly rolled his eyes at the angel, but humored him anyway. He stepped off the wall and glided down to the sands outside of Eden. 

* * *

“You look different.” Lucifer was regarding him with a frown.

“I got a corporation,” Crawly said helpfully.

“Yeah I noticed that, I’m not an idiot, Crawly.” Lucifer tilted their head. “It’s something else,” they said thoughtfully. After a moment they shook their head. “Whatever. I like the body.”

“You do?” Crawly beamed and did a little twirl for them.

“Yeah.” Lucifer smiled. “In fact…” They closed their eyes. When they opened them again they had a corporation of their own. They had made themselves at least seven feet tall and excessively muscular. They were also naked, and ostentatiously male. He was absolutely beautiful. Crawly’s jaw dropped at the sight. 

Lucifer smirked at him. “Come here, darling.” 

Crawly was only too eager to obey. Lucifer pulled his robe over his head and looked down at his body, smiling. “Looks like you forgot something.”

Right, that. Crawly blushed, concentrated a moment, and made an effort. “There you go.” Lucifer put his arms around him and pulled him close. Crawly whimpered. Just the skin-to-skin contact was making his head spin. He and Lucifer had already been as close as it was possible for two beings to be. Many times. But they had bodies now and everything felt different. He had all these new and weird feelings that he didn’t know what to do with and he felt like they were about to start leaking out of his body in embarrassing places. His cheek was pressed against Lucifer’s chest, and for Hell’s sake, why had Lucifer made himself so ridiculously tall? 

Lucifer pulled away just enough so that he could lean down and kiss the tears from Crawly’s face. Great, so he was leaking already. “It’s a bit overwhelming isn’t it?” Crawly nodded. “It’s okay, darling. Just let it out. Let go. I’m going to take care of you. I’m the only one who ever has and I’m the only one who ever will.”

Before long Crawly was on the ground with his face in the dirt and his ass in the air. Lucifer had a rough hold on his wings and was pounding into him relentlessly. Crawly touched himself frantically and cried out again and again and in the instant when he came, he wasn’t thinking about Lucifer at all. No, inexplicably, he was thinking about a white-blond angel’s face as he bit into a fruit and juice ran down his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it really inexplicable though?
> 
> It's my birthday, bitches!
> 
> Bonus points if you catch my Doctor Who reference.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> P.S. Like Crawly, I've also been with someone 11 inches taller than me. And I've been with someone 7 inches shorter than me. Height differences are weird.
> 
> Edit #2 (I can never remember if it's PPS or PSS): To my delight, apparently there is some interest in my wine pairings! And I would never disappoint a fan. So, Friday night when I posted this chapter I'd been out celebrating my birthday with some coworkers, and I'm clearly a wine person but there isn't a decent wine bar in this town (or a wine bar at all) so we were out at the one bar I can stand, because it always has a few sours on tap and that's the one type of beer that I sometimes find drinkable. So I was tipsy from that, and when I got home I opened a cab sauvignon called Undercard. Which is a boxing reference? Maybe? Anyway I didn't really get it, so that's why I didn't mention it. It was good though. I've got about one glass left, which I'll enjoy tonight.
> 
> Also, I'm super happy that you guys seem to have liked this chapter! I was a little worried when the last flashback didn't get much love. But I get it, it's hard to enjoy a chapter that doesn't feature our boys gazing at each other longingly. For now we're looking at chapters alternating between the past and the present, and I don't foresee any more Aziraphale-less chapters.


	5. Have a Little Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings this chapter, it's just angsty and sappy. Plus an attempt at humour.

“What the fuck, angel?” Crowley growled, rubbing one hand over his eyes and knocking his sunglasses askew. “I was sssleeping.”

Aziraphale noted that Crowley had apparently had time to put on his glasses, but not to put on a shirt, or trousers, or even a robe. He was trying very hard not to look at his friend’s body, covered only by a pair of tight black underpants. (Of course tight, how would he have room to fit anything loose under those jeans of his?) He shoved his way through the door without waiting to be invited in. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?” Crowley stalked grumpily back to his bedroom and noticed with irritation that Aziraphale was following him.

“Yes, Crowley, you need to tell me about your boyfriend.” Aziraphale lingered at the bedroom door. “Who is he?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business.” Crowley grumbled and picked his watch up off the nightstand. Then he spun to face Aziraphale, nearly shouting. “Are you fucking kidding me, angel? It hasn’t even been twelve hours! The way you were banging on the door, I thought it’d been at least a week!”

“I was _worried_, Crowley! We need to talk about this.”

“Nope. It’s too early for this. You do what you like, Aziraphale, I’m going back to bed.” And he shut the door in the angel’s face.

Crowley climbed back in bed and lay there silently fuming. He was wide awake now, but he wasn’t about to give Aziraphale the satisfaction of him admitting that. No, he could wait the angel out. He would stay in here, and if he waited long enough he was sure he could fall asleep again. He was a champion sleeper.

* * *

Aziraphale had fretted all night. He had tried to stop Crowley from leaving but the demon had ignored him and walked out, and what could Aziraphale have done? He was trying to be sensitive to his friend’s feelings. He knew that this was all incredibly upsetting for him. He understood that Crowley needed his space, but he was terrified for his safety. Hell knew where Crowley lived. This red-eyed demon could show up at any time. It had taken enormous restraint for Aziraphale to wait until morning to head to Mayfair. He wasn’t about to leave now. No amount of shouting or sulking on Crowley’s part was going to put him off. The demon could sleep as long as he liked. Aziraphale could wait him out. Eventually he would have to wake up, and Aziraphale would be here when he did. Then he’d have to talk to him. He settled onto Crowley’s expensive and uncomfortable sofa with _The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy_.

* * *

It was happening again. The bookshop was on fire. Crowley stumbled through the smoke and swirling ash and fluttering scraps of burning paper, panicking, searching row after row of flaming bookshelves. He couldn’t find his angel. “Aziraphale! Aziraphale, where are you?!” The smoke was filling his lungs and making it harder and harder to breathe. The fire was roaring in his ears and an antique phonograph was blaring and someone was laughing. 

_...my feelings are true, I really love you. Ooooh, you’re my best friend…_

He was choking and his eyes stung from smoke and tears. He found the back room, where he and Aziraphale had made so many happy drunken memories together, and it was all aflame, and _he_ stood in the center of the blaze, his red eyes glowing bright and sinister. “No! No no no!” Crowley yelled and fell to his knees. Lucifer looked at him cruelly and laughed and laughed.

* * *

Aziraphale had made short work of Crowley’s astronomy books, which had more pictures than words, and had resorted to miracling himself books from his shop. He’d also taken the liberty of miracling himself a tartan blanket and a cushion to sit on to make himself more comfortable. It was nighttime again, and he had switched from tea to cocoa. 

“No!” he heard Crowley yell suddenly, and he stood abruptly, his mug flying from his hand to shatter on Crowley’s modern polished concrete floor. Fear gripped his throat and he rushed to Crowley’s bedroom, flinging open the door. Crowley was thrashing in his sleep, choking out dry sobs and intermittently yelling, most of it unintelligible. Aziraphale had a moment of relief to find him alone and safe, then hurried to his bedside. What could he do? He grabbed his friend’s wildly flailing hands. 

“Crowley! Crowley dear, wake up!” He wasn’t waking up. He struggled against Aziraphale’s grip and cried out and it broke Aziraphale’s heart to see him like this. He grabbed the demon and forced him into an embrace, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his head into his chest. “Shush, my dear. It’s okay. Please wake up.” The demon fought him but Aziraphale didn’t let him go. He stroked his red hair and whispered soothing nonsense until he stilled. “There you are, my darling boy, you’re alright.”

Crowley jerked violently and flung himself backwards out of his arms, the angel too startled by the sudden movement to restrain him. What had he done wrong? Crowley was shaking, bare chest heaving, eyes wild.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said gently. The snake eyes finally focused on him and the demon seemed to calm down slightly. 

“Angel?”

“Yes, my dear boy, I’m here. You’re safe, everything’s okay.” He resisted the urge to reach out to him and gather him back up in his arms. Crowley stared at him unblinking, his breathing slowly returning to normal, relief on his face. His eyes were fully serpentine, his pupils enormous in the dark of the bedroom. As he calmed down and shook off the nightmare, his expression changed. 

“Aziraphale, what are you doing in here?”

“You were having a nightmare, dear boy.” 

He winced and looked away. “Please get out.”

“Crowley—”

“Please, angel!” Crowley was staring at his hands, gripping the duvet in tight fists. Aziraphale watched him, his heart breaking again. How had they gotten here? Just yesterday Crowley had held his hand and beamed at him. And now Crowley looked as if Aziraphale’s presence alone was causing him physical pain. He got up and left, closing the door gently behind him.

Crowley swallowed, his eyes screwed shut. He relaxed his death grip on the duvet. Why had he snapped at the angel like that? He was only trying to help. He needed to apologize. He would, in a minute. He hated the angel seeing him like this, vulnerable and weak. First he was blubbering, and now he was having nightmares? What was happening to him? He just needed time. He needed time and space to get over this, but the angel seemed determined to never leave him alone again and keep poking at his wounds. And of course he wasn’t going to let this go, either. He was going to just keep looking _concerned_, and keep asking questions that Crowley didn’t want to answer.

What could he do, short of staying locked in his bedroom forever? That wouldn’t be so bad if he could just sleep; after a couple centuries Aziraphale would have to give up, right? But apparently he couldn’t sleep more than a few hours without having a nightmare. He’d had a couple last night too, he should have known this would happen. 

There was nothing for it. He sulked in his bedroom for a few hours, just to keep up appearances, then got dressed and prepared to face the music.

* * *

Crowley sauntered into the living room, fully dressed, and headed for the liquor cabinet, not even sparing Aziraphale a glance. “Still here then?” 

Aziraphale watched over the pages of his book as Crowley poured himself a drink. “Whisky first thing in the morning, dear?”

“Why not?” Crowley shrugged, downed it in one go, and then finally looked at him. “Is it morning?” he asked in a bored tone, mostly for something to say.

“Technically. The sun’s not quite up yet. And it’s Tuesday, in case you were wondering.”

Crowley nodded. Great. Tuesday. Bloody fantastic. He poured himself another whisky, draped himself casually against the wall and waited.

Aziraphale closed his book with a sigh and set it on the stack in front of him. “We need to talk, my dear.”

There it was. “No, we really don’t.”

Another sigh, this time of exasperation. “We do. That demon is out there, and I told you what he said, and he could come after you, and you won’t even tell me who he is. I need to know, Crowley, I need you to tell me what he’s capable of so we can prepare, so I can protect you.”

Agitated, Crowley dropped his artful pose and began to pace, gesturing with his glass of whiskey. “I don’t need you to protect me, angel! When did I ever ask you to protect me? I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” The angel’s eyes were shining, pleading with him. He got up off the sofa and approached him, almost reaching for his hands, but then seeming to think better of it. “But what if it’s not enough? I don’t think the old bucket-of-holy-water-over-the-door trick is going to work a second time. Please, just tell me who he is.”

“No!” Crowley was close to shouting again. “This isn’t your problem, Aziraphale. If he comes after me, then he comes after me, and that’s all there is to it. It has nothing to do with you. Please, just drop it!”

Aziraphale felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “How can you say that, Crowley? After all your talk about us being on _our_ side. Of course it’s my problem! I _care_ about you, you idiot! How do you think I’ll feel if he kills you and I did nothing to stop it?” The words poured out of his mouth. It was the closest he’d ever come to a confession. His fists were clenched hard enough that his nails were digging into his palms, and his eyes were stinging with unshed tears. _You stupid, stupid demon, please, just let me help you._

Crowley’s eyes were wide behind his glasses and his mouth was hanging open as he stared at the angel, who was obviously close to tears. Aziraphale cared about him? On some level he’d already known this of course, they were friends after all. Aziraphale had even admitted it. But it was one thing to know, and another thing entirely to hear it fall so earnestly from the angel’s perfect lips. All his anger faded away and he just wanted to hold Aziraphale and kiss his face until it stopped looking so sad. He shoved his hands into his pockets before they could get into trouble. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, angel, I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right, we’re on our side and I’m sorry. And while I’m at it, I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier, you didn’t deserve that. I just…” He shrugged helplessly.

“I know.” Aziraphale swallowed, trying to get his emotions back under control. “I know this is hard for you. But please, I need you to tell me.”

“It won’t make a difference,” Crowley said quietly, studying his feet. “If he decides to kill me, I’m dead. You can’t stop him.”

Aziraphale took a step closer. “I can try.”

“Then he’ll kill you too. And I can’t...I can’t let that happen.”

Aziraphale reached up, carefully removed his sunglasses and tucked them in his own coat pocket. He gently wrapped his fingers around the demon’s wrists, pulling his hands out of his pockets and folding them in his own. “Look at me, Crowley.” Crowley looked up, feeling very exposed. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, his voice cracking just a little.

“Then please, don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on us. We outwitted all of Heaven and Hell, didn’t we?” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “There’s nothing we can’t do together. Surely, we can handle one demon, okay? Have a little faith.”

Crowley’s defenses were melting. It really wasn’t fair, Aziraphale looking at him like that, so earnestly with his blue eyes shining like stars, adorably and absurdly asking a _demon_ to have _faith_. He swallowed. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Aziraphale agreed, squeezing his hands. 

Crowley closed his eyes and squeezed back. Aziraphale caressed his hands, tracing circles with his thumbs, like it was all going to be okay. And for a moment, he let himself believe that it would be. “It’s Lucifer,” he whispered.

Aziraphale froze. “What?”

Crowley opened his eyes to Aziraphale’s shocked expression. He was miserable. “My…” What was he exactly? Aziraphale kept calling him his boyfriend, and that really needed to stop. “My ex. It’s Lucifer.” 

All the blood drained from Aziraphale’s face. “Dear God in Heaven.” 

Well fuck. What had happened to “have faith in us, Crowley, we can handle anything?” He sighed. “Come on angel, you should sit down, I think.” He led him to the sofa and they sat, still holding hands. 

“Whatever happened to that whisky you had, my dear?” Aziraphale asked shakily. “I think I’ve quite changed my opinion on drinking in the morning.” His glass of whisky had apparently dematerialized at some point during their argument. Crowley retrieved it from the ether and handed it to the angel, who gulped it down gratefully. Crowley supposed he’d better get the bottle, but that would mean getting up and relinquishing the angel’s hand, and there was no guarantee he’d get it back. He sighed. The things he did for Aziraphale. 

He returned with the bottle and a second glass. After his third shot, Aziraphale slammed his glass down on the coffee table. “That was Satan?!” he sputtered. “But I saw Satan! At the airbase! And he was—”

“Right, but he’s the devil, Aziraphale. He’s not bound to one form any more than we are. At the airbase he wanted to be terrifying, so he was. And when he was with me, he wanted to be beautiful, to be admired and worshipped. So he was.” Crowley scowled into his glass. “He always was a vain bastard.”

Aziraphale’s breaths were coming fast and short. “I… I told _Satan_ to… Oh dear Lord.” He abruptly put his head between his knees.

Crowley couldn’t help but laugh. He was glad that Aziraphale was calling him Satan. It made it easier to talk about him. “Who knew you had such a mouth on you, angel? You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I was pretending to be you!” Aziraphale told the floor, miserably. “I was acting.”

“Exactly, he doesn’t know it was you. He thinks it was me that said it. It’s okay. Breathe, angel.”

“That hardly makes it better, Crowley!” Aziraphale said sharply. “Oh God, and I told him he had a small…”

“Yeah, I can’t believe you said that. I bet he got insecure and doubled its size.”

“Wait, he really…?”

“No Aziraphale! He made himself seven feet tall, do you really think he would’ve given himself a small dick?” He shook his head in disbelief. “How in Hell are we having this conversation right now? Jesus Christ, I need much more alcohol if we’re going to discuss Satan’s penis.”

That got a small smile out of Aziraphale, before he remembered that this wasn’t just a joke, that Crowley had presumably seen—had presumably been intimately acquainted with—

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Crowley materialized a small bin between Aziraphale’s feet just in time. 

He rubbed the angel’s back. “You alright?”

Aziraphale spat and emerged from the bin. “No, I’m not alright! How did this happen, Crowley?”

“I told you, we met in Heaven.” Aziraphale shot him a look. “What? He was very charismatic. Didn’t you ever meet him back then?”

“Can’t say I ever had the pleasure,” Aziraphale said dryly before ducking back into the bin.

Crowley rubbed his back again, and made the appropriate sympathetic noises. He felt like he ought to apologize, somehow, though he wasn’t sure what to say. _I’m sorry I fell in love with the literal devil, it was before I met you?_

Aziraphale came back up for air. “Something occurred to me. You said he doesn’t leave Hell.” 

“Yeah, he really doesn’t. So?”

Aziraphale looked at him as if he was very stupid. “Crowley, he left Hell three days ago. We both saw him. At the airbase, remember? We just talked about it.”

Oh shit. Maybe he really was very stupid. All the compartmentalization had finally come back to bite him in the ass, like everything else he ever did. “I...” How was he going to explain this to Aziraphale in a way that didn’t make him sound insane? And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Lucifer didn’t leave Hell, and that had made him feel like he might be safe, at least for now. But Satan did leave Hell when he was angry enough, he literally just had, and he had a lot of reasons to be angry at Crowley, and he was absolutely fucked. 

“Crowley? Are you okay?”

Maybe it was okay. The last time Satan came to Earth he was bitchslapped by an eleven year old, maybe he’d wait a bit before trying it again. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale looked concerned. 

“Angel, I fucked up. I don’t suppose you’d consider—” 

Aziraphale groaned. “Please stop asking me to run away to Alpha Centauri.”

“But angel—”

“I know. I know it’s bad. It’s worse than I thought. Satan is your ex-boyfriend. You have a shockingly horrendous taste in partners. But we’re going to figure this out, I promise.” 

And just like that, the angel’s hand was back in his. He felt like crying. How was the angel still on his side? Not an hour ago he’d been certain that this would drive him away forever. Desperate for a distraction to keep his tears at bay, he looked over the stack of books on the floor. “You read my astronomy books?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Very nice. Lots of pictures. Some of them were quite breathtaking. I did wonder which ones were yours.”

Crowley smiled. “The most breathtaking ones of course. What was your favorite?” 

“Well, I’m definitely not answering that.”

“No, it’s not a trap, I promise! Please tell me. I won’t get upset if it’s not mine, I swear.”

Aziraphale looked at him suspiciously, but went ahead and picked one of the books out of the stack. He flipped to a full page photograph. He glanced hesitantly at Crowley. Then he snapped the book shut. “No. I know you. This is a set up. And anyway you’re just trying to distract me.”

“Me? I would never.” No matter what Aziraphale had showed him, Crowley had intended to act as if his feelings were deeply wounded and get the angel all flustered before laughing at him. And, well, he did have his pride. If Aziraphale picked something that wasn’t his, his feelings would be a little hurt, although he would never admit it. Anyway, it would have been a great prank. He was a little confused. The look on the angel’s face before he’d closed the book had been extremely nervous. More so than for someone who was just worried they were about to be made fun of. He sighed. “You can’t blame me for trying to lighten the mood.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “Fair enough.” A minute passed and the smile faded. “You didn’t say. Why did you say Satan doesn’t leave Hell? You seemed genuinely surprised when I pointed out that he does.”

Crowley winced, and Aziraphale squeezed his hand, encouragingly. “It’s embarrassing…” he muttered. 

“It’s okay, dear, just tell me.” How was his angel so kind? 

“I don’t think of them as the same person.”

“What?”

“Satan and Lucifer. I think of them as separate people. It was just...easier that way. And then it became a habit. So I just...I forgot. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Oh,” said the angel, catching on quickly. “So Satan isn’t your ex-boyfriend, Lucifer is.”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “And it was stupid, because both of them turned out to be assholes.”

“Oh, my dear boy, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” said Crowley, turning away. “Don’t do that.” He couldn’t stand the angel’s pity.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale took hold of his chin and forced him to face him again. “It’s not your fault. You know that right? It’s not your fault.”

Crowley wasn’t so sure. Aziraphale didn't know what he was talking about. Crowley had told him next to nothing about their relationship. Just that they'd fallen in love in Heaven, then Lucifer had become 'cruel.' Crowley had been intentionally vague. Other than that, all Aziraphale knew was that Lucifer had said a few mean things to him while he thought Aziraphale was him. The angel had no idea what he was talking about. 

He’d reached his limit. He wanted to turn into a snake and slither under the couch again. He pulled out of the angel’s grasp and stood. “I’m sorry, I just...I just can’t right now. Okay? I’m sorry. You can stay if you want, but I...I’m sorry.” And he left, escaping to the relative safety of his bedroom.

* * *

He didn’t stay there long, just enough time to give Aziraphale an opening to leave. There was no way in Heaven he was going to try sleeping again, at least not this soon. He wandered into his office and snapped on the television, then immediately snapped it off again. Television was ruined for him for the foreseeable future. Hell had agreed to leave him alone, but they hadn’t talked terms. He couldn’t be sure Hastur wouldn’t appear on the screen and yell at him and bloodily murder all the other characters. He went and had a good yell at his houseplants instead and that made him feel a little better. Not enough though. His flat wasn’t exactly a comforting place. It was just a place for him to sleep, and sleep was out. He sighed and headed for the door. 

“Where are you going?” He started and turned. And there was the angel.

“You’re still here.” He was genuinely surprised this time. Their stalemate was over. Aziraphale had gotten what he wanted, he’d forced a name out of Crowley, and Crowley had expected he would be back at his bookshop by now, deep in research mode. 

“Of course I’m still here. You’re…well we both know the situation.” Aziraphale looked away, but kept talking. “And I’m not going to make the same mistake again. I’m going to be here this time. So, I don’t want to be a bother, dear, but I’d really prefer it if, at least for the time being…well if you were within reach, so to speak.”

Crowley stared at him and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay.” He swallowed. “Sure. Um…” He jerked his head toward the exit. “I was going to go for a drive, but…well I was planning on going pretty fast.”

The angel smiled. “Do you ever drive any other way?”

“Right. So, is that okay? I mean, we can do something else if you want.”

Aziraphale’s smile widened as he caught the implicit invitation. “No, I’d love to go for a drive with you. I’ll be fine.”

“Great. And…I don’t want to talk.”

“Of course. That’s fine.”

Crowley smiled gratefully and opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I couldn't resist jumping on the nightmare bandwagon.
> 
> So, I don't really know how snake eyes work, but I have cats, and their pupils are round at night so I'm assuming it works the same way.
> 
> Tonight I'm drinking a red called "Lost Poet." On the back of the bottle there's a poem-ish: "Thinking of you is a poison I drink often."
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Edit: Thanks to Enirei for teaching me about how snake pupils work! I've edited the chapter a smidge to reflect this. Unrelated, I also added a paragraph after Aziraphale's "Good Will Hunting"-esque lines. How do you like them apples?


End file.
